


The Valar's Voice

by Ilye



Series: Flawless [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 18:59:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3219857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilye/pseuds/Ilye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reason for Glorfindel's rebirth becomes apparent, and prompts Gil-galad into a decision about the Rings of Power.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Valar's Voice

**Lindon, c.1650 SA**

 

“You’re quiet tonight,” Gil-galad observed. He was seated in the armchair near the balcony doors, whilst Glorfindel was outside perched on the balustrade. The blonde head turned; Glorfindel offered him a half-smile and a shrug, then turned to continue surveying the sea. Gil-galad rolled his eyes good-naturedly and got to his feet.

“That was meant to encourage a verbal response,” he teased as he sauntered onto the balcony.

Glorfindel chuckled. “Sorry, beloved.” He reached out to take Gil-galad’s hand in his own and brought it to rest across his thigh. “Things are coming thick and fast into my head tonight – even more than usual. It’s hard to tell which are thoughts and which are memories from the last life.”

Gil-galad smoothed his hand up and down the length of the lean-muscled thigh. Glorfindel’s skin, bright and pale and familiar, warmed his hand through the light fabric of his leggings. “Tell me,” he urged.

“I don’t know where to begin,” Glorfindel confessed. He looked at Gil-galad, then away again to the sea. “Not tonight. Everything is… disrupted. Lots of noise, shouting, fighting – some kind of battle.” He paused. “It must be an old one, then, since I haven’t yet had the pleasure in this life.”

A snort escaped Gil-galad before he could help it. “Pleasure, indeed. And long may that last, too.” He interlinked his fingers with Glorfindel’s.

“Not nearly long enough, I fear.” Glorfindel’s voice sounded faraway. “Darkness is coming, and with it, conflict.” Gil-galad looked at him, faintly alarmed, and tried to catch his eye, but Glorfindel’s gaze had travelled away with his voice. Suddenly Glorfindel shivered, so violently that he nearly unbalanced himself from the railing. Gil-galad caught his hand in a death grip, but Glorfindel did not return it. His fingers fell limp and strangely, icily cold.

“Glorfindel?” Gil-galad shook his lover’s shoulder with his free hand. “Love, whatever is the matter?” 

Glorfindel’s head swivelled towards him. His eyes were blank, cold and empty like an icy wasteland, and sucked the hot breath from Gil-galad’s lungs in a gasp. Then Glorfindel began to speak, but his voice was different now; somehow slower, deeper, older.

“Glorfindel is well. These words you hear come from beyond the sea; above the mountain. His voice is not his own.”

Gil-galad instantly dropped the hand that was in his, so that it flopped to hang by Glorfindel’s side. He took a half-step backwards. 

“Then to whom am I speaking?” he asked, guardedly.

“The purpose is not for you to speak, but for you to listen,” came the response. “I am Námo, and I bring prophecy.”

_Of course,_ Gil-galad realised, with his link to the Halls, _he must be a conduit._ “Then I am listening.”

The expression on Glorfindel’s face did not change. “I have been watching Vairë’s tapestries unfold. The threads she weaves through grow ever darker; the shadow is creeping over us. Soon these threads will meet with yours, Ereinion Gil-galad, and yours will be lost. Your spirit will join those who wait in my Halls.”

Gil-galad felt his blood run cold, but he bit onto the metallic fear that had slithered up his throat and over his tongue to choke out, “Go on...”

“There will be a great war, and yours will be its final battle. You will play your part, and you will fall nobly. _All_ will play their part. It is of utmost importance that you know this, for you are in possession of two great powers that cannot fall into the wrong hands. It is time for you to pass them on.”

Glorfindel’s voice fell silent. Gil-galad suddenly found himself assailed by a thousand questions – _to whom? What will become of them? What if I fail?_ He closed his eyes briefly, concentrated on the blackness instead of the clamour of his thoughts, and grabbed at the most prominent. “If Vairë’s tapestries have already foretold this, then why come you to me now? How could you change the course of what is already unfolding?” 

Silence yawned. Just as Gil-galad was wondering if Mandos had withdrawn from Glorfindel’s body and he’d receive no answer, the strange, faraway voice came again. 

“These events happen a way into the future. Vairë has taken pause, for she can currently See no further. She is waiting for you to make a decision – one, I think, that you have been debating for some time. I offer no advice; my purpose is simply to impress upon you the importance of this decision. You have always made wise decisions in this regard, and we trust you will do so again.”

Gil-galad swallowed thickly and forced his fear back down his closed-up throat. “And what of Glorfindel? Has he been nothing more than a tool to you? Has he played his part?”

“Glorfindel’s part in this has already begun,” replied Mandos. “He has been no more of a tool to us than he has been to you, and will be in the future. It is not wrong to accept aid when freely offered. Glorfindel agreed to this, though he does not remember it now.”

Gil-galad exhaled deeply and closed his eyes. Relief assuaged the dread that had set his heart furiously pumping and, unbidden, he found Elrond’s wisdom ghosting through his head: _If you ask the right questions, you will get the answers you seek._

Glorfindel was not destined to become a ringbearer. 

When Gil-galad opened his eyes, he found that for the first time since Mandos had spoken, Glorfindel’s expressionless gaze had turned away from him and drifted out to sea again with the golden head settled against the wall behind. Glorfindel’s chest rose slowly as he took a long breath in, then out. When he looked back to Gil-galad, his blue eyes were aware but peaceful. 

“But this is all a long way off. We have time enough yet,” he smiled, reaching his hand out now to Gil-galad.

_He does not remember that conversation from the Halls, and neither does he remember this one,_ Gil-galad realised. He schooled his face into a smiling mask and accepted the long fingers – now warm again – that were offered to him. He took a step closer to Glorfindel so that his face could not be seen and slid an arm around his shoulders. Glorfindel leaned comfortably into the embrace, resting his head against Gil-galad’s shoulder. 

Gil-galad pressed a kiss to the golden hair. “Time enough,” he murmured back as they watched the stars together, Gil-galad hoping that Glorfindel could not hear the creeping fear that cracked his voice and the furious pounding of his heart.

~~~

That night was long and brought little sleep. Gil-galad lay still whilst Glorfindel slumbered restively beside him, occasionally awakening with a confused and uneasy expression. Certain that Mandos’ visit had stirred something nightmare-like from Glorfindel’s memories, Gil-galad would settle him with calm words and grounding touches when he awoke and hold him close until he drifted off again. In the stretches where Glorfindel slept peacefully, his breath hot and regular against Gil-galad’s neck, Gil-galad weighed Mandos’ words against his own earlier deliberations. 

There was no question that he should give Narya away as he had done Vilya. It was too dangerous to keep even the weakest of the three rings, now he knew that he was liable to die in the free-for-all of a battle and she could fall into anybody’s hands. The question was: to whom should he give her?

Elrond was more than capable of wielding Vilya and their mercurial temperaments were ideally suited. Yet the he was considerably less experienced with this kind of power than Gil-galad, who had struggled with the recent shift in the balance between the two rings now that evil things had become restless, despite centuries of bearing them in times of peace. It was not wise – or fair – to double the burden for Elrond by giving him Narya too in the face of approaching war.

That was why Glorfindel had been his first thought. Grateful as Gil-galad was for his lover’s reborn presence in his life, he had nonetheless wondered whether the Valar had an ulterior motive for returning Glorfindel to Arda. Up until now, he had suspected that motive to be eventual receipt of a Ring of Power, but Mandos’ prophecy had since given him other ideas. 

Just then, Glorfindel shifted against him again with a groan. Gil-galad could feel his breath quickening and the hot stripe of the Balrog’s scar burning where their bodies were pressed together. He smoothed his fingers through the golden hair and pressed his lips to the furrowed forehead, and Glorfindel quieted again without waking. It was clear to him now: if Glorfindel’s role in the upcoming war was to act as a conduit for the Valar, with resulting disturbances such as this, then he could not also be expected to bear Narya. If nothing else, the fire that Narya commanded would not sit well with Glorfindel’s reactivity to that element.

That left only one other person to whom Gil-galad could entrust the ring. He found himself relaxing, no longer stifled by immobility and indecision and comfortable again with the familiar sense of knowing the course of action required. He pulled Glorfindel, now sleeping peacefully, closer to him, and settled to join him for what remained of the night.

~~~

The King returned to the palace shortly before noon as promised, his horse sweated and blowing hard. The token guard he had chosen to accompany him appeared a short while later, obviously outpaced by the King’s highly-bred stallion.

Gil-galad left the grooms to care for his mount and slipped through the palace to his chambers to clean away the road. He had barely had chance to strip off his shirt and kick away his boots before a soft tap sounded at the door, which immediately opened. 

“Is everything all right?” A blonde head appeared around the door; only Glorfindel would not wait for invitation. “Why the urgency? What happened?”

Gil-galad beckoned him inside. “Nothing,” he said, forcing a smile. “All is well.”

“Any note you leave me with the word ‘urgent’ in it will not stop me from worrying,” Glorfindel chided, gesturing to the hastily-scribbled message that Gil-galad had left for him when he left at sunrise. “No matter how much you insist otherwise.” He stepped closer and lightly touched Gil-galad’s bare shoulder. “You can tell me, Ereinion.”

_But I can’t,_ Gil-galad thought, his gut twisting. _I could tell you anything else, but not this. But neither can I tell you nothing..._ He turned to Glorfindel and took both of his lover’s hands in his own. 

“I chose to act on a decision on which I have been dwelling for some time,” he said at last. “I have given away the rings. Elrond already has Vilya, and I passed Narya into Cirdan’s care this morning.” He looked away for a moment, and when he looked back, Glorfindel had inclined his head, wordless questions in his blue eyes.

“Ah, Glaurfindë.” Gil-galad pulled Glorfindel close to him and kissed his cheek. “It is too dangerous for me to keep them.” _Don’t ask me why, I beg you._ “I am too obvious, and they are better off hidden.” _Please, believe me._ “Elrond was a clear match for Vilya. I had thought of you for Narya, but it would be unwise – unfair. Her fire…” He felt Glorfindel stiffen very slightly and kissed his cheek again. “Cirdan was the only other I trusted enough.”

Glorfindel nodded and pressed their cheeks together. Gil-galad felt elegant hands, warm and firm, slide down the bare length of his back. “You have been thinking on death. Your death. But you don’t know…”

_I do know._ “There is a chance.”

“It is unlike you to brood, beloved.” Glorfindel pulled back to look Gil-galad in the eye. “What has made you turn away from counting on certainties to preparing for possibilities?”

_Don’t make me lie to him again!_ “Sometimes,” Gil-galad sighed, “Possibilities become certainties. And the possibility of a Ring of Power falling into the wrong hands if I die is not one that should exist.”

Glorfindel pursed his lips, but mercifully seemed satisfied by this. Gil-galad stamped down the unease that twisted through him at thoughts of his death. “So the decision has been made and the matter is sorted. How is that for a certainty?” A chuckle hummed through Glorfindel and he smiled as Gil-galad’s knuckles brushed along his jawline. 

“I trust all affairs were in order this morning whilst I was away?” Gil-galad asked next, glad to change the subject, and received an answering nod. “And,” his words softened again, “How are you? Your sleep was disturbed last night."

“I am slightly tired, but I remember little, thankfully." The look in his eyes showed that he directed those thanks to Gil-galad, as did the deep kiss he instigated then. Gil-galad returned the kiss hard, grateful at last for action instead of thoughts, and felt welcome warmth – _life_ – fan through him. 

This thirst for life, this need to be touched by another: was this how Glorfindel felt? Gil-galad shivered as the lonely chill of the threat of Mandos’ halls encroached again – and this was before he’d visited them! He simultaneously pushed those thoughts away and pulled the wonderful distraction of Glorfindel’s body closer to his.

“Do we have a few spare minutes?” he whispered, breaking the kiss and cupping Glorfindel’s jaw. 

Glorfindel smiled, his tongue flicking out to catch Gil-galad’s thumb as it ran along his lower lip. “Maybe a couple.” His long-fingered hands slid down Gil-galad’s bare chest and set to work on the laces of his breeches. “Especially as I think a bath is in order to stop you from smelling like a horse.”

“A task definitely suited to two pairs of hands,” said Gil-galad, grinning wolfishly and backing him in the direction of the bathroom. Glorfindel laughed then, a lively ringing sound that filled the room, and Gil-galad forgot about the darkness for a time as he followed that spark to distraction.


End file.
